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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411284">Love on the Ice (and maybe off it, too)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/playful_possum/pseuds/playful_possum'>playful_possum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:28:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/playful_possum/pseuds/playful_possum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>uhhhh olympic au. gaara-heavy, pretty much entire konoha 12 and sand siblings, everybody has their own like olympic sport they do. figure skating, boxing, ice hockey, ect. </p><p>gaara and his siblings move to LA to work towards becoming olympic level badasses. there they meet... well. everybody else. gaara, maybe, somehow, against all his better judgment, falls. and falls <i>hard</i> for a peppy little boxer that cant seem to leave him alone, no matter how hard he tries to shake him off.</p><p>(but maybe thats a good thing)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gaara/Rock Lee, Hyuuga Neji/Tenten, Inuzuka Kiba/Kankurou, Konoha 12/Suna no Sankyoudai | Sand Siblings, Nara Shikamaru/Temari, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, hyuga neji/being alive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love on the Ice (and maybe off it, too)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>heyoo so for now this will probably be a one shot for now. if you guys end up liking it or whatever i might write more? but for now have uhhh this merry holidays and happy late hanukkah </p><p>this is a modern AU and pretty much everybody has either japanese or japanese/american heritage, except for the suna siblings who are Israeli, tenten who is Chinese and guy who is Korean and lee who is Korean/Japanese</p><p>let me know what you guys think! comments and kudos are super appreciated!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So, the thing is, Gaara didn’t really expect for his skating to take off quite like it did. That’s not to say that he didn’t think he was good enough, or some other nonsense like that. For all the issues he might’ve had, low self-esteem was not a problem. It was more like… he simply didn’t try to get where he was. Or, well-- he tried insofar as emulating other world class skaters, but not so in a way that he would become an Olympian himself. He was familiar with the Olympics as a whole; Temari was a gold-medal toting lightweight champion, after all. It’s just that Gaara and his brother, Kankuro, didn’t quite share in the competitive spirit their sister had. No, he was content to skate for himself, and maybe his siblings, if they asked nicely. Their mother had enrolled them all in sports of their choosing as soon as they were old enough to choose, and while there weren’t a great many rinks in Israel to choose from, they made due. </p><p>    He didn’t have many memories of his mother. Just that she was soft, and had a gentle voice. Temari will say how Gaara reminds her of mother, when she has had too much to drink and is feeling the pain of losing their mother so young more intensely than usual. So Gaara threw himself into skating, Kankuro into his ice hockey, and Temari into boxing. It was better than being at home. Their father was never a model citizen, was never somebody that any of them would consider ‘good’. Losing their mother only made it worse. </p><p>    It was a rogue Iphone video that catapulted Gaara into the same light his sister bloomed in. He assumed it was just somebody who worked at the rink and liked the routine he was doing, so that person recorded and uploaded him. It was… annoying, Gaara decided, but, well. Could've been worse. Baki, an old and close friend of the family, had decided then, after Gaara had basically gone viral, and Kankuro’s own hard work at his sport had paid off enough for other, big name teams-- out of country teams-- to start asking after him, that they all three should go for the top. With Temari’s connections, it wasn’t incredibly hard to figure out what to do and where to go. Despite their father being an abusive sack of shit, he did have one thing going for him--</p><p>    He was an American.</p><p>    Born and bred; Kankuro recalls mother once telling him and Temari how she had met their father in New York. Tem, technically, was the only one of them born in the United States, but with father being a citizen it was easier than it perhaps otherwise would’ve been had their family been less mixed than it was. Turns out Kankuro had some connections, too, Americans in the business that he had played against before-- because while he may not have been Olympic, he was still incredibly good, and had played internationally before, unlike Gaara who liked to stay close to home. Temari’s boyfriend, as well, an American; or half, anyway. Gaara can’t remember. </p><p>    So… America it was, then. He and Kankuro might still technically play for Israel, if they place on the Olympic team, considering they’re not American citizens; Gaara isn’t quite sure and he doesn't really care too much, if he's being honest. He’s not much of a patriot-- none of them are.</p><p>    There was still legal shit to work out, kind of. They were all 18 (in Gaara’s case) or over (in Kankuro and Tem’s case), and they needed to pick somewhere with easy access to rinks and skating instructors, for both him and ‘Kuro. Temari already had her shit figured out and was going to stay with her boyfriend in Los Angeles. Kankuro’s hockey buddies were also stationed up there, and since Gaara literally only had his two siblings, that’s where he followed them. He wasn’t particularly excited; LA seemed dirty and seedy at worst and too-posh and overcrowded at best. He would miss the calm of the sunrise in Tel-Aviv, the familiar smells of the weekend markets. He would miss the yearly visits to Jerusalem with his siblings, a tradition started by the mother he never really got to know. So while his father may have tainted most of his time growing up and his home, there were still glimmers of beauty that he would miss. Things that make his heart give a pained ping to think about, though he would pretend otherwise.</p><p>--</p><p>    “Ready to go?” Temari had asked him, the morning of their departure, taking a seat on his naked mattress.</p><p>    “No.” He had replied, petulant as he zipped a suitcase shut. His sister rolled her eyes, but wasn’t annoyed.</p><p>    “Brat.” She quipped, without any heat. There had been a time, years ago, when that would've been dripping with malice, when Gaara would have called her a whole manor of unsavory things and they would fight-- <i>Christ</i>, how they all three used to fight. He’s thankful that he’s not like that anymore; that they all aren't like that anymore. </p><p>    “I promise it’s not that bad. Maybe you’ll even make some friends--”</p><p>    “Or get laid.” Kankuro had interrupted as he padded past the open door of Gaara’s bedroom, shirtless and still in his boxers. Gaara just clicked his tongue against his teeth and cut a look over to his sister, to see how she would react. It was funny, usually, when she got onto their brother.</p><p>    “You’re a fucking pest, Kankuro. Fuck off and get dressed. We’re leaving in an hour and nobody is waiting on you.” She lobbed her sandal at the doorway, spurring the middle child to  put a bit of pep in his step back to his room to, hopefully for his continued good health, get dressed. Temari huffed and Garra puffed out a laugh; a quiet thing that was mostly just blowing some air out of his nose. </p><p>    “You curse more now, than you used to.” Gaara observed as Temari got up to collect her shoe, slipping it back onto her tan foot. He picked up his suitcase to plop it upright, next to his other one. He didn’t have very much; two small suitcases and a backpack fit everything just fine. Tem hummed in response, shrugging.</p><p>    “Bet you will, too, in a year's time.” She concluded, and Gaara didn’t really have anything to say to that, so he stayed quiet, making one last round of his bedroom.</p><p>    “Baki will be here soon. It’s summer so the airport will be crowded as hell--” Gaara felt his heart stutter. He hated crowds. He patted the pockets of his pants; good, okay. His inhaler and his meds were there. Or, at least, the pills he needed should he start having a panic were. His dailies were already packed up, their shared bathroom picked clean.</p><p>    “--so we’re going to get there really early. I’ll come get you when we’re ready, yeah?” Gaara nodded, fishing his skates out of his sports bag. Might as well relace while he's got shit-all to do. He’s been putting it off for too long, and his old laces in the boots are fraying and dirty where he pulls them. It helps calm him, too. Just a little. He tries to not think about how terrifying it is, moving to a completely different country he's never been to, surrounded by all his siblings friends, people he doesn’t fucking know; he thinks about the stress of becoming a professional figure skater, the stigmas, he wonders if it’ll all be worth it in the end. He swallows thickly and works the new lace through the boot. </p><p>    He hopes so.</p><p>--</p><p>    The flight is about fifteen hours.</p><p>    They’re all tired, irritable, kind of hungry. Kankuro’s eyeliner is smudged under his eyes and Tem has that look she gets where one wrong word might make you end up in a hospital. Gaara decides its best if he doesn’t comment on how uneven her ponytails have gotten. Not worth it.</p><p>    They’re getting their luggage when Shikamaru finds them-- that’s Temari’s boyfriend. He...looks like how Gaara envisioned somebody who lives in LA would look. If that makes sense. Tank top, black hair in a bun on top of his head, undercut, loose sweatpants. A septum piercing and metal rings crawling up the shell of one ear. Gaara’s never gotten to meet him before this; Temari video chats and texts him often, and always stays with him wherever she’s got events in LA, but Gaara never bothered to try and introduce himself when the option was available. He-- meeting new people isn’t easy.</p><p>    “Hah, you look like shit, Tems.” Is the first thing he says after he saunters up to them, and Gaara’s eyes widen, just so. He expects her to lay him flat on his ass, but instead she just scoffs and throws one of her heavier bags at him to carry. It’s the one with all her training gear in it, he knows from watching her pack it.</p><p>    “Shut up and look pretty.” Is all she says to that, and Shikamaru slings her bag over his shoulder, cocking a little half smile. Despite their somewhat harsh words, Shikamaru is looking at her like he's seeing God and Temari seems more relaxed than Gaara has seen her in years-- he doesn’t… he doesn’t quite understand, but. Temari… seems happy. He thinks. So. It must be okay, he decides. He sneaks a look at Kankuro, because he always understands these situations better. His older brother is completely relaxed, stifling a yawn as he watches the couple. Shikamaru is picking up the rest of Temari’s bags with little effort; she didn’t really pack much to begin with. He even makes small talk with Kankuro for a few minutes, while they get the rest of their stuff and start making their way out of LAX. It occurs to Gaara then that his brother has definitely met Shikamaru before, is comfortable enough with him to joke and speak informally-- not that Kankuro is ever formal to begin with, but still. Gaara suddenly wishes he might have taken a bit more interest in Temari’s partner, before. Maybe he wouldn’t be feeling so out of place now. </p><p>    His skin itches, and it becomes somewhat hard to breathe.</p><p>--</p><p>    Shikamaru was friendly, despite his apathetic demeanor. He tries making conversation with Gaara, but-- well. Gaara doesn’t do very well in these situations on a good day, and after a fifteen hour flight and a very near panic attack in the car, he… yeah. He looks out of the window in lieu of actually responding properly to anything Shikamaru says to him, either nodding, shaking his head, or giving the appropriate hums of yes or no. It goes quiet, for a bit, and Gaara assumes he’d given up. That was fine.</p><p>    It’s still hard to breathe. Gaara pulls his inhaler out of his pocket and takes a slow drag. It helps.</p><p>--</p><p>    Shikamaru’s apartment is tidy enough. There’s sprinkles of Temari everywhere, too. During Shikamaru’s bland tour of the home, he sees his sister's brand of make-up littering Shikamaru’s bathroom counter. There’s an Israeli cookbook in the kitchen; Gaara thumbs it open and it's written in Hebrew. Specifically for Temari, then. He puts it back where it belongs, squeezed next to a Japanese inspired cookbook and a handful of random, American-style cookbooks. There’s clean laundry dumped on the couch, needing to be folded. He spies a few bras-- quickly averting his eyes. He obviously doesn’t know what Temari’s-- he doesn’t even--moving on.</p><p>    There’s pictures of them in the hallway, next to pictures of people Gaara doesn't know. There’s a few pictures with the two groups together, Temari included. These must be Shikamaru’s friends; Temari’s friends, by extension. Kankuro is even in one. They must’ve had events around the same time. Kankuro is in other pictures, too, without Shikamaru, but still with people that are in some of the other photos. Large friend group, then? Hm.</p><p>--</p><p>    Dinner that night is relaxed. Shikamaru orders a ridiculous amount of food from some Thai place down the street, and despite his exhaustion and the rough day, Gaara finds himself enjoying it, somewhat. He’s never had Thai before. He likes it, he decides. Shikamaru doesn’t try to force him to talk, and they all just chat lazily, sharing jokes and stories back and forth. Sometimes one of his siblings will include him, if he’s in the story, and he’ll shrug, or hum. It’s enough for them. Enough for their host, apparently, who’ll chuckle or add his own anecdote. It’s nice. </p><p>    It’s only when the knot in his chest loosens that Gaara realizes he even had one there in the first place.</p><p>--</p><p>     It takes three months for Gaara to meet anybody else, besides his skating coach. They try, but… It’s difficult. And, anyway, Gaara spends all his time at the rink or buying time at the local dance studio to practice his forms and make sure he’s at the top of his game. It’s easy to ignore everything else and devote himself wholly to skating with the Winter Olympics creeping up behind him.  He’s, technically, got three years to prepare. He’ll have to have his citizenship by then-- or at least a green card-- if he wants to skate for the U.S. A little less than three years, if he counts when nationals take place; the competition that will actually make him eligible to skate for, not just the U.S., but any Olympic team.</p><p>     It’s… a lot. He starts to sweat, if he thinks about it too deeply. So, he just takes one step at a time. For now, that means getting good enough to place in nationals. So that means five hours on ice, four hours off ice a day, six days a week. It’s picking music, developing choreography, deciding what kind of “story” he wanted to tell-- all the shit that made him not really want to do competitive skating in the first place. </p><p>     But he has nothing else, and no one else, so he deals.</p><p>     His skin itches.</p><p>--</p><p>    His personal instructor teaches two other students. Young adults, about his age. Maybe younger. They pair skate together, apparently. He’s never met them, can’t remember their names-- until he comes out of the locker room for practice that day and sees somebody other than Kurenai on the ice. For a brief moment, he juggles the thought of turning tail back to the apartment he’s still sharing with his sister and Shikamaru (Kankuro stays with a couple, old hockey buddies. He hasn’t met them yet, but Kankuro likes them enough, so that's enough for Gaara), but, inevitably, takes a deep breath and marches up to the ice, letting his shoulder bag thump against the floor and tossing his blade guards on top of it, gliding smoothly onto the ice and towards the two women.</p><p>    “Kurenai.” He says, in lieu of greeting, and she stops mid sentence to turn and regard her student. </p><p>    “Gaara-- I didn’t realize it was that time already. If you’ll give me just a minute, I’ll finish up with Hinata here, and we’ll start on your rotations. I want to see you do some triples today.” Finding that answer satisfactory, he turns to go to the other side of the rink to warm up, but his teacher stops him.</p><p>    “Also, while you're here, it’ll be good for you two to meet. Hinata, this is my new student, Gaara. Gaara, Hinata. She’s one half of my pair team.” The student in question-- Hinata-- dips into a polite bow, hands clasped together and blue-black hair a crisp bun on top of her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I know we’re all excited to see you perform in your first competition here.” Her voice is soft and kind. Quiet. He thinks that this may be what his mother sounded like.</p><p>    “We?” He finds himself parroting before he can stop himself. He wants to cringe-- he’s taken steps backwards, since the move here, socially. He used to be better at being fake-polite. Now it’s like he’s back to the days of his early teens; rude and clipped. Nasty, sometimes. He has to learn how to reel it in. Thankfully, Hinata doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil, or his cold tone. Or she’s choosing not to comment on it. Either way.</p><p>    “Most of our friend group is made up of athletes. And, well, the majority of us are… are Asian, as well, so we all have kind of… stuck together. Since the beginning. So, it’s exciting to see somebody new, and with the way Kankuro talks you up to Kiba--” her face goes red, as if she’s said too much. It takes Gaara a moment to realize-- he can feel his brows furrowed together, mouth drawn in a scowl. Fuck.</p><p>    He fixes his face into something that he hopes looks more neutral. Okay, re approach. How does he… re approach? Hinata won’t meet his eyes now, she’s shuffling her skates against the ice, this girl is friends with Kankuro’s friend and, well, that has to mean something, and she really does seem nice, even if she is a little mousy and quiet, which one is Kiba, again? He’s said one word and he’s already fucked up, he should’ve stayed home--</p><p>    “Hinata-nee,” Somebody called from far behind him, jolting Gaara from his thoughts.</p><p>    “Ah, that’s me!” She seems relieved. Gaara doesn't exactly blame her.</p><p>    “It’s been a pleasure, Gaara.” She bows politely again, and Gaara dips his head in return, watching her glide to the edge of the rink where she joins a group. She hugs one of them; the man looks like he could be her twin. Family, he guessed. There's a girl in buns, she looks like Sailor Moon, and another man. He’s wearing a garish green tank top, despite it being November, and truly tremendously short shorts, and his hands are wrapped-- like a gymnast, maybe? Some kind of fighter? He hums. Well, Hinata did say nearly all her friends were athletes. Professional ones, probably. He shakes his head, turning away from the group and trying to refocus. He’s wasted enough time.</p><p>    “Triples.” he says to Kurenai, perhaps just a bit terse. She doesn’t comment on it, and his practice begins.</p><p>--</p><p>    His lesson is an hour and a half long. He gets free time on the ice, after that. He usually stays for another three or four hours, but today is different, and it doesn't take long to figure out why. He’s being watched. He deals with it for exactly two hours and twelve minutes before he glances at the stands after landing a toe loop and-- it’s, fucking, Bowl Cut. Without his friends. Did they leave him? No matter, he’s watching attentively, clearly interested, eyes big and bright. Gaara’s gut twists. What did this guy want? He mutters a curse under his breath.</p><p>    “What?” He snaps at the guy, voice echoing in the large space, the only other sounds being the air conditioners and the <i>shhk shhk</i> as Gaara makes lazy, slow loops around the arena, now that his training is disturbed, scowling at the man before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to do that, make friends, Gaara, Temari and Kankuro’s voices are pinging around his head. </p><p>    “You are absolutely magnificent!” Is what he says in return and--what? The rink quiets, because Gaara had stopped his momentum, coming to a halt near the wall where the man was standing, only about ten feet away.</p><p>    “I--”A noise comes out of his throat, then, a kind of ‘nnhg’, and he shakes his head.</p><p>    “Come again?” Gaara replies, and Bowl Cut, absolutely fucking shameless, repeats himself.</p><p>    “Magnificent! I had heard, second hand, that Neji’s sister’s rink was getting a new member, and that he was the best figure skater around!” And-- well, that wasn’t really true, but the guy continued on, anyway.</p><p>    “I’ve seen skaters before, and you completely blow all of them out of the water! Oh-- no disrespect to Hinata or Sai, they are truly Masters of Their Art in their own passionate way.” Gaara could only blink.</p><p>    “Uh-huh.” Is what he settled on, unsure what to make of this character.</p><p>    “You must train and work so hard! I imagine it must be incredibly exhausting, but so rewarding at the same time. I am so excited to have you here!” Bowl Cut finally went quiet, but he looked expectant. Like a… puppy. Or something.</p><p>    “Sure.” This was awkward. Right? This had to be. There’s no way this guy wearing a tank top and crocs in November was being legitimate. Or. Well. Maybe that’s how to tell that he is being legitimate. How confusing.</p><p>    “When is your next competition?” He was asking, and Gaara, so thrown for a loop, answered him simply, without thinking too hard about it, still trying to figure out what this guy’s end goal was and why he wasn’t acting similarly to how Hintata-- and most strangers-- reacted to him</p><p>    “A few weeks, I think. It’s a Friday and Saturday.” Gaara was starting to feel the cold of the rink seep into his bones, now that he wasn’t practicing. Sweat from his earlier exertion was cooling in little beads on his forehead, under his arms, in the small of his back. Despite being a figure skater nearly his entire life, he wasn’t easy to acclimate to lower climates and got chills easily. He blames that on living somewhere so sweltering as Tel Aviv-Yafo since birth, and being so small and, well, thin, compared to the two brick shithouse’s of his siblings. Gaara folds his arms over his chest, sticking his chilled, naked fingers under his pits to make them stop prickling from the frigid air.</p><p>    “Terrific! I will be there to support my new friend!” This stranger was beaming, and Gaara felt his heart clench painfully. </p><p>    <i>Friend? Since when? I don’t even know his name-- is he serious? Is this some kind of long-con, like… bullying? It wouldn’t be the first time. He looks so open, though, like he could never commit a bad deed in his life. He’s so bright, like the sun. Are all of my siblings friends like this? Christ, where does this guy get the energy to keep this up? I don’t trust him, but I kind of want to. Having a friend sounds nice. Will he forget who I am, when he leaves here today? I won’t forget him, I think. I want him to remember me.</i></p><p>    “My name is Lee, by the way! Rock Lee!” Gaara is jolted from his inner monologue, eyes focussing on Bowl Cut-- on Lee-- as he strikes a somewhat comical pose.</p><p>    “Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. I got too excited, and let that get ahead of my manners.” Lee, for the first time, looks cautiously sheepish, rubbing at his neck and laughing a bit. Gaara raises a brow, and he can feel his lips wanting to turn up into a half-smirk. He ignores the desire to do so, and keeps his mostly neutral expression in place.</p><p>    “Gaara.” He clips, taking a hand and moving his neck a couple different ways, the cracking of his bones loud in the mostly empty rink, just a few employees milling around and a small group of kids making their way onto the ice. They were youngish, around ten, maybe? Gaara was shit with telling ages. They’re followed by an adult, somebody that Lee waves happily at and gives a pleasant ‘hello, Lee!’ back before turning his attention back to his somewhat wobbly class.</p><p>    “That’s Iruka-Sensei!” Lee informs, even though Gaara didn’t ask, the other man’s round eyes snapping back to Gaara. Whatever. He was curious, anyway.</p><p>    “He teaches the younger kids here and around the area. Pretty much everybody that wants to do winter sports-- like Hinata-- had their start with him, even if they ended up not sticking with it and going to a different path. He is truly a respectable sensei!” Gaara only hums, gliding forward and stepping up and onto the carpet surrounding the ice rink. He taps shavings off his blades, squatting down to grab at his blade guards and to swing his bag over his shoulder, using the railing to steady himself as he stands up to slip the guards onto the blades.</p><p>    “Different path?” He, as per usual, parroted back instead of asking an actual question. He wanted to keep Lee talking, kind of. He was loud, and maybe annoying, but he liked the way Lee spoke and, well. After only hearing the same four people speak for the past three months, the change was welcome-- even though Gaara would never tell anybody that. </p><p>    “Yes!” Lee confirmed as Gaara perched on whatever bleacher seat was closest, starting to unlace his skates.</p><p>    “Like your brother’s friend, Kiba.” That name again; guess they all really did intermingle. Too bad he can’t fucking remember--</p><p>    “If you don’t know who that is, he’s got this huge white dog that goes with him everywhere, so he’s pretty easy to pick out of a crowd.” Can this guy read his mind? Gaara, childishly, cut a look over at Lee and very intensely commanded the man to say ‘banana’. Did Not Work. Obviously. Because reading minds isn’t something people do. (Gaara was still suspicious).</p><p>    “Kiba started with standard skating, moved over to hockey, which is what Iruka-sensi’s husband teaches, and then switched to snowboarding, and he’s done that ever since.” Lee continued on. If he was bothered by Gaara’s look while he tried to figure out if Lee could read minds or not, the young man didn’t look it, instead sitting next to Gaara on the cold metal as the redhead took a moment to rub some of the numbness out of his feet now that the skates were off. Fuck, he was sore. He hoped he still had some painkillers at the apartment; as his thumbs rubbed at the sole of his feet he could feel a twinge in his back and side, as well, from a nasty fall he’d had yesterday. He vaguely wondered if he could convince Temari to let him use her and Shikamaru’s bathtub to soak, since the guest bath only had a standing shower.</p><p>    “Are you in pain?” Gaara jumped, minutely-- shit. He’d completely forgotten about Lee sitting right there, so preoccupied in the thought of being able to take a bath later. He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to check back into now and digging his low top black canvas shoes out of his bag, pulling them on and messily tying the laces.</p><p>    “Usually. Part of skating.” When Gaara finished with his shoes and looked back up at the new man that claimed to be his friend, he was frowning, which, in turn, made Gaara want to frown. </p><p>    “I see. I have many friends who get hurt on the ice, I’ll have to ask them if there's any tricks to making the bumps and bruises feel better for you.” For not the first, or second time today, Garra feels surprised.</p><p>    “I-- why?” <i>I’ve dealt with it forever, I’m not asking anything from you, I still don't really know you, why are you being so… friendly? Why didn’t you just leave with your friends, earlier? You want something from me, and I haven't figured it out yet, and it’s unsettling.</i></p><p>    “Because I don’t like my friends being hurt!” Rock Lee says this as though it’s obvious, beaming his sunshine smile and giving Gaara a rather cheesy ‘thumbs up’. Gaara, despite all his uncertainties and his half-trust of Lee, had a desire to smile again, like earlier. He sniffs and packs his shit away, standing up and shouldering his bag. Shikamaru should--</p><p>    “Yo.” There he was. Gaara felt exhausted, despite training less than usual due to Lee interrupting (thank god Shikamaru always shows up early), and was ready for the quiet car ride home. His sister’s boyfriend looked bored, as usual, but Lee was happy to launch into a conversation with him, for a few minutes. Was Lee friends with everybody? Shikamaru is a skateboarder, how does Lee even know him-- well, Gaara supposed, Hinata had previously said they were all friends and Lee himself said that most of them started out in the same skating class. Maybe that's what it was?</p><p>--</p><p>    Temari was training today, so the house was quiet when they arrived. Kankuro was still crashing with his friends; Naruto and his fiancé, Sasuke, since they all need to train for the same shit and would be going to the same place, anyway. It makes sense. Gaara still hasn’t met them. Maybe he should. Eventually.</p><p>    “We’re having stew tonight.” Shikamaru drawls from where he’d gone into the kitchen, and Gaara approves. Normally, this is where he would pad into his bedroom, maybe take a short nap, if he can. Probably end up doing stretches or the yoga that Tem’s been adamant he get into since moving. Instead, he pauses in the living room. The kitchen is open, doesn’t have any walls giving it privacy from the den, and so Shikamaru notices, glancing at him from over the stove as he stirs in his stew pot. He waits for Gaara to speak. Temari hadn’t been kidding with him-- not that he thought she was-- when she warned that Gaara was different, and that things that came easily to herself and most of the people they knew were, most of the time, incredibly difficult for Gaara to handle or do. Speaking, sometimes when he’s had a day like this, where his rhythm has been disturbed, is one of those things.</p><p>    “I have a friend.” Shikamaru’s brows twitched up, but he otherwise didn’t emote.</p><p>    “Lee?” Gaara nodded.</p><p>    “I think. I’m not sure. He… confuses me.” At that, Shikamaru did give a quiet chuckle, looking back down and starting to work on chopping up some vegetables.</p><p>    “Lee’s a good guy. He’s a lot, but he’s good. He’s about the only one of us that isn’t a raging dick. A good friend to have.” And, well. That made him feel better. He didn’t realize he had wanted some confirmation that Lee wouldn’t play some kind of cruel joke or turn on him, but Gaara was glad that he had it. He’s satisfied with this.</p><p>    “He’s loud.” Gaara deadpanned, and Shikamaru snickered.</p><p>    “Mm-hm.”</p><p>    “He said he’d come to my next competition. Does he mean that?”</p><p>    “Yeah. If Lee said he’ll be there, he’ll be there.” Shikamaru shrugged. Gaara felt his stomach twist, but not.. unpleasantly.</p><p>    “I see.” Gaara said softly, mostly to himself, before he padded into his bedroom to do cooldown stretches and think. He… had a lot to think about, and new feelings to unpack.</p><p>    Maybe moving wasn’t so bad after all.</p><p>--</p>
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